


For A Few Dollars More

by JustAMermaid



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Campfires, Gen, M/M, Old West, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Relationship, also shameless reference to one of the novels is shameless, and the title is a ref to one of my favourite spaghetti westerns!, frontier doctor v is my fav thing in this au, idk how to tag the rest, oh and v is his own character in this one ofc!, v is too much of a good boy, vergil is an Ass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-01-31 19:46:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18598168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAMermaid/pseuds/JustAMermaid
Summary: Vergil questions himself on why the doctor he has been traveling with keeps lowering his prices more and more.Or also: V is one of the remaining proofs that generosity can exist in the harsh frontier and someone doesn’t know how to handle it.





	1. Chapter I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeehaw
> 
> i had this au for like a day while still having just an ounce of plot and i STRANGELY put out something really quickly. more will come soon (i hope)!
> 
> note: at the times prices for medical work were VERY humble. that's because medicine wasn't really advanced, so really, it was a work of little substance. also, monetary inflation was a thing: one dollar in the old west is 24 dollars and 62 cents in today's world! ain't history cool!

They came at night, usually. After a short dinner around the campfire they set up people would still come, maybe looking at light shining in the dark as a welcoming one, even though still far from their houses and villages – and V would still be working, still be talking to worrying miners and farmers and mothers and prostitutes with that soft voice of his, still easing any pains and worries they had.

Vergil would hear all of it, even from outside the carriage V would welcome people in: some were the same story once again, some were new, and in the warm nights he learned to appreciate those words became his only way to know how life worked among the ones who just lived in the wilderness, not even trying once to tame it. He could see very well how they were not accustomed to it by sheer fear in their faces when they met his stare, and that was enough to remind Vergil of his own conditions. Safe to say he wasn’t really fond of it.

Some nights his body would remember the pain in his every bone, like clockwork. He would once again feel like the rocks of the mine were falling on his body, scarring his face and breaking him under the heaviness, how he would only see darkness and inhale the dust and even now Vergil isn’t sure how he found air to breathe, or how he’s alive at all. Sure, with a face so screwed up V insisted that bandaging it all over was the only solution to keep it safe and preventing any old superstitious wretch from spitting in his eye to get rid of bad luck by just seeing his deformity, but _alive_. He has just that doctor to thank for finding him that day – and now Vergil has a brother to find and a score to settle, preferably not in a mine of any shape or form this time.

This time the so-called patients didn’t just stare though, oh no, but let out a scream so fitting for the little children they were, and rushed into the carriage, where V had to calm them down before asking them anything related to what problem they had at all. Vergil didn’t move, just slightly shifted as he leaned with his back against the wood of the carriage, the Winchester rifle that V was so generous to have lent to him with him, hand on the handle and barrel resting on his shoulder. Just by feeling the cold metal against his neck, he could recall all those days spent with V trying to teach him how to even hold a rifle in the first place. Vergil wasn’t accustomed to guns of such firepower and size, all he held in his hands before were small dueling pistols, but he’s glad he’s getting better at them, especially since the incident got his right eye too.

\- … That’d be all. – He hears V speak after a while. – Just please, remember to be careful next time. – A shuffle of papers. – Cold water and wheat flour, alright? That’s all you’ll need in case it will happen again. – And then there are tiny little steps, and the two kids, two boys both about ten years old, step out of the carriage. One of them, hair longer and his face dirty, takes out a single dollar.

Soon after, V steps out too, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up and his black vest open, hair up in a small and messy bun and a wild strand of hair falling in front of his eyes. He gets on his knees, at the same level of the two kids, before he shakes his head, an enigmatic smile on his lips that maybe confuses the pair even more. Vergil just stares at the scene, the only eye not covered by the bandages curiously looking.

\- A dollar is too much – V says, hands up to his chest, - I truly believe your family will need that far more than I and my traveling partner do.

The other kid, with shorter hair and a scar traveling across his forehead, speaks: - Pa’ always told us we should pay, though.

\- Yeah! – adds his brother, - Like a thoroughbred would, sir!

V taps a finger on his chin then, like he’s seriously considering the offer. – What about a penny, then? A single penny, that is.

\- A penny? We can do that! – The long-haired kid smiles as he puts away the single dollar, tucking it back his dirty shirt, and then pulling a coin out of his pockets. – Here, here! – He smiles then, almost grins, as he lets the single penny fall on V’s open palm. – There you go, sir. Thank you, sir.

\- Thank you, sir, thank you!

\- Now, maybe it’s better if you go back to your father, he must be worried. – V gets up, staring down at the two. – Have a good night, children.

The kids just smile and nod and wave their little hands as they run away, and V doesn’t stop looking at them until they disappear behind the multitude of trees. Only after a while Vergil speaks, voice muffled by the bandage work: - You’re kidding me, V.

The doctor turns around to look at him, an eyebrow raised and arms folded. – Did that happy picture hit too close to home?

\- That is not for you to know. – Vergil’s grip on the Winchester gets harder, knuckles turning white, before the muzzle hits the ground, facing it. – I was talking about the pay.

\- What about it? – V’s question seems actually genuine, as to ask himself why would the other think that. – They were children, here for a simple burn they got from working under the sun all day, only their father to feed them. _Children_ , Vergil.

\- Then a dollar wouldn’t have changed anything, would’ve it?

\- For us? No. Them? It could. I’m asking you to change your point of view, for once.

They look at each other for what seems an interminable minute, just the sound of the crickets in the distant fields and the cackling of the fire, before they both turn their gaze to the dancing flames, until V sighs. – I don’t want to be harsh, even if our ideologies may clash sometimes. I did offer to help you, after all.

\- Only sometimes? – Vergil replies. – But I do see your point, and that’s what matters at least. You’re an interesting one, _V_.

His name – his _nickname_ – drips from Vergil’s mouth like a sort of mockery, but not a malicious one. That only makes a sly smile appear on V’s lips: - I could say the same about you, _Gilver_.

The other just snorts at that, the reminder that yes, he’s still known in all the frontier as Vergil, and he’s dead – otherwise, a lot of people would be following them right now, and presumably to finish a job they didn’t even start.

V walks up to him, getting closer, before he rests an arm on Vergil’s shoulder, gently, as it then moves to his neck to tug at a loose white strap of cloth. – Well then, I do think it’s time to treat my last patient for tonight before we go and rest. We don’t want to risk for those bandages to get too infected, now, do we?

For a moment, Vergil looks at him, the way the light of the campfire illuminates half of his face, how his smile is gentler, _beautiful_ almost – and he notices just now how V’s eyes are surprisingly pretty, greener than the forest they stopped in to rest. He tries to push away these thoughts, only for them to return when the doctor bites his plump lower lip as he works against the knots he himself made to keep all that work in place – it’s not and wouldn’t even be the first time, anyways.

\- One day, I swear – and V can picture and hear that small smile in Vergil’s voice, a confirmation he has when he sees it with his own eyes as he pulls back the bandage covering Vergil’s mouth – I _will_ leave you behind, doctor. Interpret this as you will.

V smiles back. – A frontier doctor being shot in the back by the bodyguard he himself saved, abandoned as a prey in the snow – he muses, before his hand cups Vergil’s face in a way that’s maybe too tender to be true. – Now that’s a tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would die for them  
> if u want me to write other things about this au - especially involving the rest of the cast - please let me know!  
> i eat kudos and comments for breakfast!!!
> 
> find me on twitter @gothdatefriend !


	2. Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil is reminded he's a dead man walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a transition chapter that'll lead to the juicy part in the next one tbh. and wowie! i updated something! it's a first!

It was afternoon when they arrived in town, the sun looming over their heads as if looking down on the only two people so desperate to have traveled at that hour. The rumors of a doctor arriving in town spread quickly of course, as all rumors do in small settlements like this one, and soon enough V was at work.

They found a place to rest at a local saloon, since the young miss running it needed someone to take care of her husband’s sprained ankle, and quickly, the pay for that treatment a meal and a room both for two. Vergil was finishing hitching the horses to the post just outside the place when he heard them talk, a shake of hands to seal their exchange of favors, and soon he walked in too.

He doesn’t really know how much he waited sitting at the bar, arms folded in contemplation of the multitude of bottles of alcohol behind the counter, before V came rushing down the stairs, a brown, long handkerchief in his hands, red staining it, as it stains his hands and fingers too.

Vergil turns around, elbows resting on the counter. – Blood? For a sprained ankle?

\- It seems like our gentleman may have been lying about the cause of the spraining, which was a bullet right in the ankle – V says, still trying to clean the blood. – He may or may not have met a group of _desperados_ just outside the city while horse riding and decided trying to be the hero would have been a wonderful thing to do, _absolutely_ so.

The clear sarcasm in V’s voice, mixing with frustration as he sighs and goes for the bottle of water lying on the counter, almost makes Vergil smile, only the sheer stupidity of what the other just told to stop it. He huffs instead. – Sometimes I even wonder why you bother with such foolish people.

V pours some of the water on the piece of cloth, and starts wiping the blood away with newfound energy. – Oh, believe me, sometimes I wonder too. But it’s my duty. Even though… - and there’s the hint of a laugh in V’s voice, a rare thing – Even though sometimes I think they do it just because they know _I_ am in town.

If Vergil didn’t know enough about V to understand the reasons of those words, he would’ve probably just raised an eyebrow at such a bold statement – but he does. Well, V is good at his job, no doubt, and Vergil does admire him for that – not that he’ll ever tell him –, but there’s also a reason why that single letter is on everybody’s lips in the frontier: V is a mystery. Nobody knows much about his past, or why his remedies work almost every time. Some say he’s a prostitute’s son, who left attracted by the gold fever before a dramatic turn of events changed his life philosophy, others say he may even come from outside the States, from an unknown land, and that could give a reason for those strange black tattoos that travel across his body and his vast knowledge of herbal remedies and recipes that no one seems to really know about. Vergil knows he’s the first man who has ever been this close to him, and the fact that he still doesn’t know anything enrages him and amuses him at the same time.

It’s almost funny, he thinks, how unlikely of a pair they are: V, a man with a face so known but whose past is shrouded in a thick mist of legends, and him, whose face is covered but if revealed, anyone could sing stories about what he did, his family history, the one rightful heir to the treasure his father abandoned in a desolated cemetery years ago – what drove him to this path in the first place.

V’s voice interrupts Vergil’s thoughts as quickly as they started: - I’m surprised you didn’t whine about the payment this time, though.

\- Why would I? It’s fair. It may not be money, but it’s still something… Unlike other times.

He can just _feel_ V eyerolling behind him. – That miss is generous enough to shelter us and give us food, you should be happy and this should also serve as proof.

\- Of what?

\- Of why sometimes I decide to not get fully paid for my services, if not at all. I understand the happenings in your life may have led you to have a certain vision of the world, but that won’t change how I’ll act around you. For now, I’d say we could learn some things about each other. I just want you to let you know there is kindness around here, even if rare.

Vergil just stands still, observing the light of the setting sun entering the windows and coloring the wood of the floor a warm yellow, dust dancing in front of his eyes. He doesn’t need V to speak, he already knows the words that are dangling from his lips, only that man’s politeness to stop them from falling: _“That is the reason you’re alive, after all”_.

But V just sighs, and after his hands are clean again and the handkerchief is abandoned on the counter, he joins Vergil, sitting beside him. A hand goes for the inside pocket of his vest then, and soon enough he’s holding a folded piece of paper. He gets Vergil’s attention only when he opens it, though.

As Vergil takes it in his hands, he’s met with a familiar face – his own, before it became scarred for life. A messy drawing, with his most prominent features on display as he’s looking with determined eyes towards his own current state. Memories rush back. The paper gets crumply by the force he’s holding the poster with. _“REWARD: 9.000 DOLLARS FOR THE CAPTURE OF THE OUTLAW VERGIL”_ , the printed words under the sketch say, _“SON OF THE LATE BANDIT SPARDA. WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE FOR MURDER, ROBBERY, TREASON AND OTHER ACTS AGAINST THE PEACE AND DIGNITY OF THE U.S.”._

The worst thing is that it looks painfully _recent_.

\- _He_ ’s dead – it’s all he spits out like venom after giving back the wanted poster to V, looking down. – _Dead_. They know it, they all know it. How can this be? Where did you find it?

\- It seems like my last patient has a fascination with outlaws and trying to track them – answers V, folding the poster and putting it back in his pocket. – Regarding… _him_ , all I can say is that they still didn’t find his body in the mine, after _someone_ saved him. Many could think he’s still alive somehow, or just search for his body to show it to any local sheriff and have the reward. Dead or alive, _Gilver_ , remember?

Vergil gets up from the chair, and he can still feel V’s stare of him. His voice is heavy as he speaks, but confident: – We’ll leave at dawn, then.

V just nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always u can find me on twitter @gothdatefriend !


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